Low

I reach low into the world upon which I trod take a handful of dirt, ponder it closely searching for a sign of souls who've come before me. From this earth come we all, and unto it shall return, so where is everyone? How low must we go? Earth is home. Our beginning, our living, our resting place. This little, lonely planet amongst the trillions, and each one of us, one of trillions, so low into the cosmos, can do no more than reach down finding our past and future mingling together. There is a confirmation of self down low, deep. Something beyond naming; yet, within reach...